


Falling Grayson

by Multifandom_damnation



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Angst I guess, Gen, i really enjoyed writing this, its kinda sorta poem-ish at he start
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-18
Updated: 2017-05-18
Packaged: 2018-11-02 04:05:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10936629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Multifandom_damnation/pseuds/Multifandom_damnation
Summary: What's the point of winning, if you fail to save the ones you love?What's the point of being a big brother if you can't catch your family?What's the point of being a Flying Grayson if all you do is fall??





	Falling Grayson

He was falling.  
From a trapeze in the sky, a mistake.  
A show-off.  
An act.  
He thought he could make it.  
The offer was too important to refuse.

 _“If you make the leap, you can catch them. They will live. Just make the leap, as you have every other time before this.”_  
And he watched as they plummeted from the top of the tower to the dirty, hard pavement below. Falling like a stone.

He had watched them sink in the viscous air too thick to be clean but too thin to be dirty. Somewhere in the middle.  
They fell in a flurry of reds and greens and yellows. Of blacks and blues and whites.  
He could see them splattering on the cracked pavement far, far below.

He had leapt. A simple leap, one he had done many times before. Off of buildings, out of the way of bullets and blades. From a trapeze wire at the circus into the awaiting arms of his parents.  
He has always performed this very trick.

He should not have “performed”.  
He was just told to “leap”.  
Not “ _perform this leap” to save them_.  
He shouldn’t have performed.  
He did the leap he always did, the performance he put on for the circus goes, who wanted a show and had come to watch the Flying Graysons “perform”.

He was so used to performing that leap.  
That he was all about the performance.  
And when he performed that leap when he was young, he always showed off.  
That’s what he did.  
He showed off.  
And missed.

He missed.  
And they fell.  
They fell screaming like a bird whose wings had been clipped.  
But that’s what they were, weren’t they? Birds that were born and bred to be broken. Pieces on a chess board waiting to be taken by the other team.  
In this case, the other team was death.

Were they the black pieces or the white ones?

They screamed for him.  
_“Help us!”_  
“Dick please, catch us!”  
“Help us please!”  
”We love you, Dick!”  
And when he had missed, the begging to be saved had turned into begging for him to die.  
_“How could you?”_  
“You promised you would always be there to catch us when we fell!”  
“What kind of big brother are you?”  
“I hate you, Grayson!”

He didn’t know which he hated more.

He couldn’t watch his family die because he had failed to catch them.  
He couldn’t watch the great expanse of red on the ground as it spread into a sea of maroon, into a dark puddle of failure and guilt.  
Couldn’t bear to hear the squelch and the crunch of bones and body hitting, crumbling, bursting, breaking.  
So he made his decision.

He leapt.

The trapeze had gone, blown away by the wind.  
He never wanted to see another one again.  
He doubts he ever would.  
He flipped, he twirled, he dived.  
He turned and watched the grey sky slowly fade behind the clouds.

It was going to rain.

He watched as he saw the tops and bodies of smaller buildings came into view the longer he fell.  
He heard the squelch and the crunch of a heap of bodies landed on the hard pavement.  
He watched for the final time as the bat-signal came on, brightness in the black sky.  
His last thought before he hit the ground was the only one that really mattered to him.

“I’m sorry”

And he closed his eyes and waited for the impact and his bones to break and body to land in a crumpled heap next to those of his family.  
The Robins, the Bats, the Reds, the Support.  
Bruce, Jason, Tim. Babs, Cass, Kate. Steph, Dami, Alfred.   
All gone.  
Because of him.

He closed his eyes and waited for the death he deserved.

But it never came.

* * *

 

Dick woke up in a cold sweat, breathing hard.  
He looked out his window, it was still snowing. The first snow they had gotten in ages. It was why Jason and Tim had been forced to stay the night. Bruce wouldn’t let either of them go. Tim didn’t need much convincing, he gets sick easily since his spleen was removed, but the only way to get Jason to stay was a phone call from Roy and Kori.

He checked the clock resting on his bedside table.  
**2:27 AM Tuesday 14/3/17**

Dick suddenly had an urge that could not be ignored. He wanted to see his family. He stood up and pulled on a jumper, his tracksuit bottoms not enough to brave the cool air. He didn’t bother with shoes, just got up and left the room. Alfred would be very annoyed with him if he found out.

Everyone was asleep in their old rooms. Some of them hadn’t been lived in for years. The manor had plenty of bedrooms, so Bruce’s many kids always had somewhere to sleep. When he got out onto the landing, he found that he actually had no idea what he was doing. Where was he going? He closed his eyes and sighed, but the images of bodies falling into empty space shone behind his closed eyelids like shadow puppets. Suddenly he felt himself moving, floorboards cool on his bare feet.

He had made his way to Jason’s room and had pushed open the door before he could lose his wits. The light from the street light outside the window illuminated the scene before him. Jason’s guns littered all along the far wall like rag dolls he hadn’t bothered to put away, clothes flung haphazardly across the floor, his helmet on its side on his desk as though it had fallen over in the night, uniform dumped unceremoniously on the end of the bed, a packet of cigarettes under the pillow, window slightly ajar to make the room less stuffy.  
He made his way over to Jason’s bed, careful not to stand on the floorboards that moaned and creaked. He looked over Jasons sleeping face once he had reached the bed, his face slightly scrunched up, as though he was also having a nightmare. Or he just didn’t want to be here. Dick didn't want to wake him, so instead of soothing his hair or caressing his cheek, he took the box of cigarettes from under the pillow and put them in his pocket, and left the room.

Next was Tim, whose door was slightly open anyway, which was good because that meant that Dick didn’t have to worry about the handle that squealed when it turned. He had left his desk lamp on, which shone on papers and uncapped pens. Always working. Tim was asleep spread-eagled above the covers, his face buried into his pillow. It was an amazement that Tim had fallen asleep at all. Dick went across to turn off his light and cap his pens, then went back on his adventure.

Dick hesitated then, outside of Damian’s door. Would he wake up, tell Dick to get out? He had been the one to say “I hate you”. What would happen when he went into that room. When he opened the door he could not see a thing. No lights were on, and the black-out blinds were drawn over the window. Dick wouldn’t even have known that Damian was asleep if he hadn’t heard the soft snores coming from the other side of the bed.  
As he made to leave, Dicks’ foot kicked the handle of a katana blade that Dami had left on the floor. Damian stirred at hearing the familiar _clink_ of the blades _._ Dick quietly bent down to pick them up and place them back on their stand by the door.

Next was the girls. That wouldn’t be too hard. Steph had arranged the girls all sleep in the large bedroom on the second floor and have a “sleepover”. The only person who had happily agreed was Cass, but Kate and Babs went along with it anyway. Dick made his way up to the top floor landing and quietly opened one of the huge double doors.  
They were all lying on top of one another on the bed, a mass of limbs and bodies. Not the dead sort. Breathing could be heard from them, and loud storing from Steph signalled that at least, she, was alive. Dick stayed there for a little while longer before he made his way out. Before he could he heard a soft voice call out to him.

“Dick?” Cass mumbled as she rolled over to face him “What are you doing here?”

“Nothing,” he whispered back, hushed and urgent, “just making sure everyone was alright. I thought Steph might have bored you to death. Go back to sleep, Cassie.” 

With a small chuckle, Cass road back over and the small breathing could be heard again.

Duke, Alfred and  Luke were not in the manor. Luke and Duke couldn’t make it to the Manor before the storm hit and Alfred was out visiting a sick friend in the hospital, hoping the family could look after themselves for 24 hours. He settled for sending them a text.

_Everything ok? Just wanted to make sure._

Not expecting a reply he put his phone away, only to have it buzz again and he had to pull it out. It was a text from Alfred. He wasn’t sure that Alfred even did texts.  

_What has happened Master Richard? I am quite alright, but has something happened back at the Manor?_

_No Alf just wanted to make sure everything was ok, what with the snow storm and all. Goodnight_

_Goodnight Master Richard._

He waited a few more seconds in case anyone else replied, but they didn’t, so he made his way over to Bruce’s room. That was easy enough. He just made his way up the stairs and to the tall, oak double doors. He pushed them open slowly, as he had done many years before, and he looked.  
He saw Bruce lying on his side, facing the window that was wide open. The room was freezing, so Dick went over to close the window, trying to make as little sound as he could, but the window was old. The glass shook and the boards rubbed against each other. Dick turned around to look into Bruce’s face, taut with worry lines and tiredness. He was breathing deeply and grunted every now and again from the pain from the rib he broke 2 weeks prior.

But still very much… _alive_.

They all were  
His family is safe.  
They are alive.  
They are here, with him in the manor.    
It was all ok.

Dick went back to his room, images of death still behind his eyes, but he felt much better knowing everyone was alright.

If Dick had looked behind him before he had closed the doors to Bruces room, he would have seen Bruce look up and a small “Dick…?” escape his lips, before he put it down to his imagination and went back to sleep.


End file.
